


Trust in the Night

by bactaqueen



Category: AFI
Genre: Blood, Bondage, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Give us a creed to believe a night of Lust; give us trust in the Night."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental. No harm is intended. Jim Morrison's "An American Prayer" is quoted. Again, no infringement is intended. No profit is made.
> 
> Author's Note: Originally posted March 2005.

Interior: a six-by-eight meter basement with bare cement floors and naked, unfinished walls. Harsh green-white fluorescent light throws the corners into stark shadow. A large climate-control unit purrs near the stairs. A low, plain chest against the wall beneath a vent bears an array of ominous instruments on its flat lid. These tools remain untouched.

Dominating the open floor plan is an iron bed with an intricately-wrought head and matching foot. White cotton sheets protect the mattress and two large, down-filled pillows are arranged across the head of the bed. It all seems so clean and well-ordered.

Two men are otherwise alone in this space. One stands away from the bed, his skin sickly-tan in the buzzing light, naked. His hair is longish and strange; most of it is dark, though a large blond patch falls across his right eye. His round face gives the deceptive appearance of youth. Large brown eyes and small, full lips further soften his face. His broad shoulders narrow to a slim waist and tight hips. Ink decorates his upper arms and belly; his skin is smooth but for cultivated patches of hair under his arms, south of his navel, and around his erection.

The second man is secured face-down on the bed, his face pressed into one thick pillow, his arms stretched crucifixion-style over his head and his legs spread far apart. Long black hair falls around his head and shoulders. His muscles are taut and flexed. His pale skin seems to glow. Dark wings inked into the skin of his back flutter with each labored breath. He is blindfolded and gagged. His submission and humiliation are total. With his consent, he is entirely at the mercy of his unbound partner. There is nothing he can do but wait.

Tension charges the air. The sense of something about to happen is everywhere: in the man on the bed, in the man in control, in the very night itself. Action is near and uncertain.

Very slowly, the man on the bed flexes every muscle in his body. The silent cue causes the other man to move, gliding predatorily across the rough cold floor and mounting the bed. He presses his knees against the bare flesh of the blinded man’s inner thighs and holds his weeping cock in one hand as he leans forward and braces himself over the bound man. In a single smooth, quick motion, the length of his dick is buried in the tight and unprepared confines of the prostrate man’s ass. A long, helpless, pain-filled groan goes up, muffled by the gag. The face-down man tries to get away from the ripping, searing pain, but there is nowhere to go. Knowing this, the man on top exploits his superior position and does not relent. He is silent as he roughly and unceremoniously fucks the man below him. Instinct reigns and the used body tries to expel him. The friction only adds to the intense pleasure. It is only upon release that he breathes a single, noisy sigh. At last, he pulls free, scraping his partner one last time. The man on the bottom keens behind his gag in a low, wordless plea.

With hands braced in the sheets to either side of the hips of the man below him, the dominant man pushes himself back and then up. On his knees, he turns to loosen the straps securing his partner’s ankles. When the man on the bed can draw his knees up enough to lift his ass in the air, the kneeling man turns back. Tough, dense bone is defined beneath the translucent skin that trembles with exertion. Firm, round globes of an ass are lifted high in the air. And there is a faint smudge of blood high on the inside of one milky-white thigh.

The man on his knees leans forward. He has large, flat hands and calloused fingertips. Hip bones fit perfectly into his hands. The man before him his open and broken, exposed, with no way to cover or defend himself. This is humiliation. But this is trust, too.

Wet and hot and rough, the kneeling man passes his tongue over the pucker of the broken man’s anus. This is unexpected. The pleasant abrasiveness causes the prostrate man to arch his back and push his ass against his partner’s face. Behind the blind, he squeezes his eyes shut, and around the gag, he moans throatily. Deliberately and diligently, the dominant man uses his tongue to clean away the blood. He slips it inside and tastes the most secret parts and what remains of his own flavor. As his rigid tongue fucks the man below him, his fingers grip the bound man’s hips. He does not touch the begging, aching cock; he does not have to. The bound man comes quickly and messily, all over himself and the clean sheet below him.

When the unbound man removes himself, he offers no tender touches, no lingering kisses to his partner’s hypersensitive skin. He presses the black-haired man’s hips to the bed and shifts. The ankle straps are opened first. The wrist restraints are next, and when the pale man rolls to his back, the lengths of silk that serve as a blind and as a gag are removed. Finished, the dominant man moves to lie on his back beside his partner. They lay in silence, side-by-side, for many slowing heartbeats. A siren wails in the distance. Closer, the climate-control unit shudders and gasps; water pipes rattle; the lights buzz incessantly.

The submissive man’s soft voice breaks the disturbances. “Give us a creed to believe a night of lust. Give us trust in the night.”


End file.
